Benaghar: The Rat, The Wolf & The King’s Fool (chapter 3)

Chapter Three

№9 Grand Alboreum Circus

Phæ’enor could hear shouting, screaming and the cries of men and women. People were running all over the place; some across the pier away from the ships, and others, set alight by fire, were jumping into the waters of the harbour. The black bird loomed in the sky, crying out as it watched the madness below. Did the bird order this she thought? It was as though the bird had commanded the ships to burn and was surveying its work from above.
She tried to make her way through the crowd, but the smoke from the burning ships clouded her way. She started to choke, lost her footing and fell to the ground.
Bodies of the dead lay like litter; black and tarred, some still smouldering. She crawled amongst them, flinching as now and then she brushed passed a corpse, its dead eyes staring back at her. The heat began to intensify and everything around her caught fire; the bodies engulfed in flame circled around her.
The bird flew overhead again as the pier, the carriages, the horses and then more ships started to explode.
BOOM!
‘Arrrgh!’ Phæ’enor screamed. She awoke, finding herself upright and pouring with sweat. She coughed as she tried to control her breathing. In confusion Phæ’enor looked about her surroundings, she was no longer in Benaghar’s harbour. Instead, she found herself in a very blue coloured room. It was mainly in shadow except for the light shining through a gap in the curtains of the window to her right. It cast light onto the iron bed posts, and the blue bed linen, matching the walls. To her left she could make out a loft hatch in the ceiling and below it a small dark wooden table. A robe hung over a chair next to it and a long mirror stood idle in the corner. A small wardrobe stood opposite her at the end of the bed.
The curtains billowed into the room as a breeze came in through the window. Feeling calmer she wiped the sweat from her brow. Looking at the hand she had used she could feel and see herself shaking slightly. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath and thought to herself, I am okay, I am okay. It was then that she realised how much she had sweated. She was damp, all over. The night shirt that she now wore was soaked through, as were the bed sheets beneath her.
Feeling very uncomfortable she gingerly got out of bed, removing the linen that clung to her body. She stood, trying to gain her balance; her legs felt like jelly. She touched and looked down at them, then her arms and then lastly, she touched her face. Only a few bruises and scratches had appeared. She breathed another sigh of relief, only to then remember:
‘Mother!’
Phæ’enor, not knowing what to do or where to turn, stumbled around the room and looked for an exit, but managed to bang into the furniture. Unable to see as clear without much light she moved over to the window and drew the curtains fully aside. As she opened them she turned her head away, shielding her face from the brightness of the light. It was still day then, she thought, and although tall, the window was not very wide, so she leant in further to get a better look outside.
There was a tall white building opposite with windows like the one she was peering out of, but no doors; she must be viewing it from the side she thought. As she looked below, a wide cobbled street of grey and yellow stones separated the two buildings. She tried to peer left and right through the window, to get a better view, but could see no more. Disappointed, she leaned back into the room but as she did there came a series of sharp noises.
Tap! Tap!
It was coming from outside. Curious she leaned up into the window again, her face pressed up against it.
TAP!
Phæ’enor flinched in surprise. Nothing had hit her, but she could now make out where the noise had come from. A large stone had landed on the outer sill of the window, a couple of smaller ones lay beside it, and she became aware that she was being watched. Phæ’enor looked across to the window of the building opposite but no one stared back at her. Then she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Looking up she saw the moon of Hallumera above, the other moons had now gone to sleep, and directly below it a rooftop and the tops of three heads. Faces peered at her from underneath hats, or was it some sort of fur? She could not tell from this distance. Suddenly they all jumped up, the one to the right threw another stone, they all laughed then ran off along the rooftops, disappearing into the horizon.
‘Hmm,’ said Phæ’enor to herself.
With the curtains now drawn back she turned around. A small narrow corridor led off from the main area of the bedroom. Phæ’enor followed it to its end and opened the dark and heavy wooden door. It took some effort to move it, but it eventually creaked open. Surprisingly, it opened onto a large and brightly lit landing, with a wide staircase spiralling down to the floors below. It was cold outside of her room. She looked back into the blue room and retrieved the robe that hung over the chair by the desk. Putting it on she moved onto the landing immediately outside the room and looked over the balustrade. Phæ’enor could make out another two floors below her and one above.
There were several doors leading off from this landing and Phæ’enor was just about to move off and explore when she caught the sound of voices from below. Mother? thought Phæ’enor again, and she started to swiftly move down the spiral staircase. As she reached the next landing the voices had become louder, but they were not coming from this floor. She moved down the next set of stairs but no longer swiftly. The voices were much clearer now, and as she came to a stop on the last stair, Phæ’enor could hear not only her mother, but at least two or three other women, and a few male voices as well.
‘Look, I don’t believe there is anything to worry about ma’am…’
‘Nothing to worry about? Good gracious man! Do I look like an idiot to you? I may be old, but I’ve still got my senses, my eyes and ears and I can smell a rat amongst you and your men!’
‘Odora!’ came the voice of Mrs Doven. ‘Please calm yourself. I’m sure everything is okay.’
Phæ’enor slowly moved across the black and white chequered floor hallway, towards the voices. It was wide with a large black and glass stained door that loomed up ahead; to the left a large silver gilded mirror; below which stood a dark side table. A small bowl, filled with spilled coins from a velvet purse, glinted in the middle of it. Next to it her dirty and worn travelling cloak had been placed upon an iron coat stand. The voices were coming from another wide black door to the right.
‘Ma’am, please, if I may continue,’ said a deep male voice.
‘Hmm … well, you best be quick about it. I’m starting to lose interest or care for you and your men in my house,’ said the other woman again.
‘Our house, Odora. Our house!’ came Mrs Doven’s voice.
‘Yes. Well. Officers, please, do continue with what you have to say. I believe our grandmother and aunt would rather be attending to Phæ’enor sooner, rather than later.’
This time the voice came from a much younger woman. Phæ’enor, intrigued to whom all the voices belonged, bent low and looked through a very large brass keyhole into the room beyond. She was out of luck if she wanted to see anything for her view was blocked by dark clothing. Phæ’enor could only assume it was one of the “officers” they were talking to. However, her curiosity was spared the wait when the door was suddenly pulled opened. Phæ’enor, having placed her hands on the door to steady herself, fell into the room and landed at the feet of the person blocking her view.
‘Well, it seems you don’t have to wait any longer to see your granddaughter, Mrs Jemin.’ It was Captain Rost G. Alba of The Scavenger, standing with his hands behind his back, smiling down at her. ‘You, Miss Doven, have a habit of falling over, so it would seem.’
Phæ’enor replied with a wincing smile, before turning to another man in the room who had offered his hand to her. Staring up at him she was met with a rather rotund stomach, but very tall and shiny legs; his boots recently buffed. Instead of taking his hand she clumsily got up and dusted herself down on her robes. She did not recognise the man. He wore black like an officer, but he was much older, with grey hair. A rather large moustache dominated his face so all that was left to see of it was his tiny, watery, blue eyes.
‘It’s the mead, dear.’
Phæ’enor looked to see who had spoken. Sat in a rather large armchair, in front of a large bay window was an old woman. ‘His belly, dear?’ in reply to Phæ’enor’s shocked look. ‘That’s how the Admiral has a large belly.’
‘Odora!’ exclaimed Mrs Doven.
‘Grandmother!’ gasped the other women in the room.
Phæ’enor looked over to see two young women sat next to each other on a red high-backed sofa.
‘Oh, shush. We all know Admiral Gull likes nothing better than to drink. Don’t you, man? Drinking in the morning, drinking at lunch and dinner. You drink before you see your wife in the evening, and you most certainly drink on the job!’
Phæ’enor looked over to her mother, who now had her head in her hands, whilst the two girls, scarlet in the face, braced themselves for the Admiral to explode in rage. Phæ’enor looked back at the man in front of her, who still facing Phæ’enor but with his back to the others had taken a deep breath, reopened his eyes and turned back to the old woman.
‘Mrs Jemin, I shall take my leave…’
‘Yes, do!’ replied the old woman.
‘But I shall still need to speak with your daughter, Mrs Doven.’
‘Yes, of course, Admiral,’ replied Mrs Doven.
‘WHAT!? Absolutely not, not now, not…’
‘Odora!’ shouted Mrs Doven at the old woman, ‘Phæ’enor is my child and I shall decide whether Admiral Gull here, and his officers’, can speak to her…’
‘Question her more like!’
‘Or not!’ said an exasperated Mrs Doven. Then quickly, before the old woman could interrupt again, ‘Admiral Gull, Captain Alba and Officer Nathryn…’
Phæ’enor, unaware that Officer Nathryn was even in the room looked around only to see him standing behind an armchair by the large bay window; his uniform had blended in with the dark curtains, camouflaging him. He gracefully bowed at the remaining women in the room. The two girls did the same in reply. The old woman sniffed heavily, looked down her nose at him and turned her head to face the other direction.
‘Phæ’enor, darling, please move out the way for the officers,’ said Mrs Doven.
At this, the Admiral, Captain Alba and her mother exited the room. Phæ’enor listened to their conversation as they moved out into the hallway.
‘I think it best that you leave it for a few days,’ said Mrs Doven.
‘Mrs Doven, I wish I could but the king and Prince Taigor are adamant this be resolved quickly,’ replied the Admiral.
Mrs Doven sighed, ‘Send a note tomorrow with the best time to call on you. I shall bring Phæ’enor with me.’
‘Alone?’ enquired Admiral Gull, ‘without the grandmother?’
‘Alone,’ replied Mrs Doven.
As the Admiral was helped into his travelling cloak by a manservant, Officer Nathryn came up alongside Phæ’enor and in hushed tones spoke:
‘Your mother is very graceful. Your grandmother, perhaps not.’ Phæ’enor did not reply. She had no idea who the old woman was, but she was not aware of her being her grandmother. ‘Maybe that’s where your father gets his no-nonsense attitude from,’ continued Officer Nathryn. Phæ’enor did not know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult. ‘I should go. However, I think you and I shall be seeing more of each other. You have a habit of both making trouble, and attracting it, especially around naval Frigates.’ Officer Nathryn moved to the door, his travelling cloak swiftly adorned. ‘Gooday to you Miss Doven, Mrs Doven.’
He followed behind Captain Alba and Admiral Gull as they departed. Mrs Doven wearily closed the door behind them as Phæ’enor looked on. She smiled as she turned to look at her daughter. Then slowly made her way over and held her tight.
‘Are you okay, my darling?’
‘Yes, mother. Just … where are we?’
‘You are home my dear,’ came the voice of the old woman behind her mother.
Mrs Doven rolled her eyes at Phæ’enor, and then composed herself with a polite smile. It was the demeanour Phæ’enor was used to seeing her mother reserve for the other officer wives at balls and when taking tea, whilst they droned on about new fashions, the latest gossip about another officers’ wife’s entanglement with a younger officer, or how it wasn’t long before their husbands got promoted. Phæ’enor had always wondered how her mother’s face had not cracked from the pressure of constantly smiling at the nonsense around her. This occasion being no exception, Mrs Doven remained ready, wrinkle and ache free once more.
‘Phæ’enor, this is your grandmother, Odora Jemin.’
‘Is she?’ asked Phæ’enor.
‘She is indeed!’ replied the old woman affronted.
‘Your grandmother, Odora. Your father’s mother?’
‘Oh,’ said Phæ’enor. ‘Why do you have different surnames?’
‘I remarried after the first husband copped it. Then the second one died shortly after that!’ She looked Phæ’enor up and down. ‘Still scrawny I see and every bit impertinent. No doubt that is from your mother’s side of the family.’
‘Excuse me?’ said Phæ’enor.
‘How old are you now? Thirteen, fourteen years old?’ asked her grandmother, ignoring Phæ’enor’s reaction.
‘I am sixteen, nearly seventeen ma’am,’ Phæ’enor snapped back in reply.
‘Ha, well you still look like a child. You certainly behave like one too, from what I’ve heard and seen so far … and …’
‘Grandmother! Why don’t I ring the bell for some more tea?’ came the voice of one of the other two young women in the room.
Looking at them again, Phæ’enor realised they must be twins; almost identical. One had brown hair and blue eyes, the other fair with dark eyes. But they both had freckles on their noses, wore matching attire, white dresses and black boots, and seemed to have the same mannerisms. Both girls noticed Phæ’enor looking. They smiled big and happy grins back at her. Wow, they even have matching teeth, thought Phæ’enor.
‘These are your cousins, Phæ’enor,’ said Mrs Doven.
‘I’m Mimi,’ said the fair-haired girl.
‘And I’m Simi,’ said the darker haired girl.
They both got up with excitement and skipped over to Phæ’enor before grabbing and squeezing her tight. Unable to breathe for the smothering, Phæ’enor stared at her mother, face squashed.
‘That’s enough girls,’ said Mrs Jemin, ‘she has only just arrived. I don’t want to have to write to her father in Vanu only to say she died from too much hugging.’
‘Oh, grandmother,’ exclaimed Mimi, ‘it is only because we are so happy to see our little cousin after all these years.’
‘Yes, we are cousin,’ said Simi, still embracing Phæ’enor at arm’s length. ‘It’s been so long since we’ve seen you. I bet you don’t even remember us.’
‘Of course she doesn’t remember you, idiot! She’s never met you,’ barked their grandmother.
‘Oh, I thought we played together as children?’ said Mimi, looking confused.
‘I think you were reminiscing about your imaginary friend dear,’ replied their grandmother.’ Phæ’enor suppressed the urge to laugh out loud. Instinct told her that her grandmother would not approve.
‘Oh well,’ said Simi, smiling at her cousin, and pulling her by the arm to sit Phæ’enor down on the sofa between herself and Mimi.
‘Mr Deke, we require more tea!’ called Mrs Jemin, through the open door into the hallway.
There were quick footsteps and a slam of a door in the distance, then more footsteps echoed away until they could be heard no more. Phæ’enor looked from side to side, her cousins smiled at her manically. She looked over at her grandmother, Mrs Jemin. Although a little dumpy around the middle, her face was as sharp as her voice. Her bright blue eyes looked down a long and pointy nose at Phæ’enor; high cheekbones and a chin framed her small mouth and her grey, almost white, hair was severely pulled into a bun on the crown of her head. The pattern of her dress did not help to smooth the hardness of her appearance either; dark grey, almost black, and white thin stripes covered her up to the chin. There was no lace, just a small ruffle that framed her face. Phæ’enor forced a smile.
‘Whatever are you smiling at girl?’ said a bemused Mrs Jemin, ‘you nearly got blown up, it’s nothing to smile about!’
‘Grandmother!’ cried the two cousins.
‘Yes, Odora, don’t make it out to be as bad at that, please,’ implored Mrs Doven. She turned to face her daughter. ‘We just took the dying impact of the blast, that’s all. We were very lucky that we were no longer close enough to the ship.’
‘What did happen? Did anybody get hurt?’ asked Phæ’enor, remembering the dead bodies and the ring of fire before she woke.
‘Admiral Gull and Captain Alba believe the gunpowder on board was set alight. Unfortunately, the crew that had remained on board to start unloading were killed.’
‘Was it deliberate?’
‘Yes.’
‘But, why?’
‘They don’t know … but they have been questioning all the passengers, and crew. At least those that survived. That is why Admiral Gull was here earlier, to ask us some questions.’
‘Bloody fools,’ said Mrs Jemin, ‘it was more than likely that one of their more inexperienced sailors accidentally set light to the powder.’
Phæ’enor looked at her mother, she was forlorn and tired. She thought of the crew jumping into the harbour waters and the neighbouring ships being set alight.
‘Did anybody else get hurt?’
‘No, some of the other ships have damage to them caused by the impact of the blast, but it looks like it was just the crew left that were killed.’ This time it was her cousin Mimi who had answered.
‘Everyone on the harbourside suffered small injuries, cuts and bruises, that’s all,’ said Simi. ‘It was quite chaotic when we got to you.’
They all fell silent. Phæ’enor could not recall anything from the explosion, only from what she had seen before and that big black bird circling above. The sound of footsteps brought her thoughts back into the room. A door opened and closed out in the hallway, then quicker footsteps and a gentle knock on the door.
‘You may enter, Deke,’ said Mrs Jemin.
The manservant who had cloaked Admiral Gull in the hallway appeared around the door with a tray full of tea; a young girl, much younger than Phæ’enor, followed him with another tray, this time full of cakes and biscuits before they both disappeared again. The two cousins then poured the tea and, as though they had been waiting for the opportune moment to arise, proceeded to bombard Phæ’enor with questions about Vanu and the journey to Benaghar. They talked at her endlessly for what seemed like hours; about their life in the city, the different clothes she should wear, the fashion houses she should shop at, and the places to be seen to get a husband.
‘You’ll be wanting a husband I suppose?’ asked Mimi.
‘What?’ said Phæ’enor, spluttering on her tea. ‘Why would I want a husband?’
‘Well, so you can have children and a family,’ said Simi, beaming at her.
‘No, no, no,’ interrupted their grandmother, ‘women don’t marry for all that rubbish. Judging by you two, who would want children?’
Phæ’enor feeling a little relived sighed and took another sip of her tea. ‘No, you want to marry for the money child. I’ll have no grandchild of mine marrying a pauper!’
‘Oh, grandmother!’ exclaimed the cousins.
They carried on bickering with each other and their grandmother about what type of man a woman should have for a husband whilst Phæ’enor looked to her mother, attempting to catch her eye. Instead, Mrs Doven had closed them, no doubt to shut out the noise of the squabble from her mind.
Phæ’enor, reluctantly turned back to the conversation, but stopped halfway, staring at the net curtains of the window. A shadow had moved across it and had now stopped just outside. No, it couldn’t be? Could it? She started to hear the noise of gentle tapping on the bay window, but this time it was not coming from stones being thrown at it. It was more frequent but quieter than the stone-throwing from earlier. Phæ’enor looked to her cousins and grandmother to see if they had also noticed but they were still engrossed in a conversation about some shop in town:
‘Why would you go there, girls?’
‘We didn’t, grandma. Archä and Mëdez were in the street looking even stranger than usual…’
‘Yes, and they were talking to Mr Consta, you know the astronomer…’
‘Well, he shouldn’t have been. He works for the King’s Court. Anyone seen with those two is tainted by association! There’s no way he will get a wife once everyone knows…’
‘Somehow I don’t think Mr Consta is the marrying type grandmother.’ The twins looked at each with a knowing glance.
Phæ’enor, turning her attention fully to the shadow, got up slowly, so as not to divert the attention of the party, and moved silently towards the window. The tapping continued, still quiet but less frequent than before.
Tap … tap. Tap. Tap … tap … tap. Tap.
When she arrived at the window she slowly moved the net curtain aside, towards the larger heavy draped ones that had been pulled back to let some light into the otherwise dark room.
‘Arrgh!’ screamed Mimi.
‘Get it away, get it away,’ screamed Simi.
Phæ’enor had jumped at their screams and at the enormous bird that was sitting on the outer window sill. Instead of gently tapping, it was now flapping madly against the window. Big black wings and a large red underbelly now blocked the view to the square beyond.
‘Move away from the window girl,’ shouted Phæ’enor’s grandmother.
She had got up, gingerly, but swiftly moved over, pulling Phæ’enor back. With her walking stick she hit hard on the window, scaring it off. The bird hit the window one last time; angrily it seemed to Phæ’enor, before taking flight across the square and over the rooftops.
‘What kind of bird is that?’ asked Phæ’enor, unnerved still and breathless.
‘I hate birds!’ said Mimi hysterically. ‘I won’t be able to go home with that thing flying around…’
‘Oh, nonsense girl,’ barked their grandmother, ‘you are not staying here tonight. Any excuse to stay with your cousin. I have quite enough to feed already. You can both stop whining, right now. No wonder neither of you are married yet.’
‘Well that’s unfair,’ said Simi sulkily.
Phæ’enor’s grandmother rolled her eyes and moved towards her chair. She sat down heavily and picked up a large brass bell from the side table to her left. Ringing, Phæ’enor heard footsteps from the other side of the sitting room door then two rapid knocks.
‘Enter,’ said her grandmother wearily. ‘Mr Deke be so good as to escort Simi and Mimi back to Queens.’
‘But?’ came the disappointed voices of Simi and Mimi in unison.
‘But, nothing! You will be escorted back to your home. I’ve had quite enough of your excitement for the day.’
‘But grandma, it is not even teatime yet,’ said Simi.
‘And that bird is still out there,’ said Mimi.
Mr Deke, expressionless, stood there and said nothing. Phæ’enor, although tired of her cousins’ conversation felt the need to leave with them. She could do without the incessant talking, but she wanted to know where the bird had come from. It had been there when The Scavenger had docked, there when it had exploded and now it was outside their home. Had it followed her here? She made her decision.
‘I’ll come,’ she said, ‘I’m not afraid of birds Mimi, and I’m sure Deke here will also protect you.’ Mr Deke, still unmoved remained silent. ‘I … I could do with the fresh air as well,’ she said after looking at the shocked and curious faces of her two cousins.
‘Hmm, you do look rather pale still, dear. Yes, maybe a bit of fresh air and exercise will do you some good. That is a fine idea,’ said their grandmother.
‘Odora,’ exclaimed Mrs Doven, ‘she needs rest, not exercise!’
‘Mother, I’ll be fine, I could do with a walk and I would like to see a bit of the city. After all I didn’t get much of a chance when we arrived.’
‘Well, that’s decided then. Go and get some suitable clothing on,’ said Mrs Jemin.
Mrs Doven, exacerbated, looked annoyed at her. Phæ’enor, excited to leave, hurried out of the room and ran up the stairs before her mother could protest further. Several moments later she was back in the sitting room clothed in the only thing she could find in the bedroom; a white lace dress, like her cousins were wearing, but less frilly, the skirt coming just above her dusty and dirty travelling boots.
‘You’ll need a hat, cousin,’ said Mimi, looking less ill at the prospect of leaving, now that there were four of them to fend off the bird than just the two.
‘I’ll be fine,’ said Phæ’enor, brushing her hair to one side.
‘Very well. Mr Deke, get these two back safely, and you Miss Phæ’enor, best be back before it turns dark. It is not far, and I am well aware of your ability to wander off at will,’ said her grandmother.
‘Deke,’ said Mrs Doven, ‘bring my daughter back safely and swiftly. No detours, Phæ’enor,’ she finished sharply, looking at her daughter sternly.
‘Yes mother,’ said Phæ’enor, and eager to leave she moved swiftly out of the sitting room, across the hall ahead of her cousins, grabbed her travelling cloak from the stand by the door and walked into the sunlit street beyond.

To read chapter 4 and 5, visit fkmaddison.com.

Originally published at https://www.fkmaddison.com on January 2, 2021.